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11 months ago I packed up my life and moved across the world to Berlin for work. I left my job at Microsoft in May 2022 because I knew the question of "what if I moved to Europe?" would haunt me until the day I died. I talked through such a huge life change frequently with my therapist. With the way I operate and my anxiety, we frequently discussed a plan b.

Seattle would always be there. My friends at my hangout in West Seattle would remind me, we'll be here when you need a dose of home.

So I moved to Berlin with 4 suitcases, ready to be in the same timezone as my team at Rapid. Four months later we all got laid off.

Well then.

You think in those moments that your anxiety would taunt you, "the actual WORST THING happened, you were right! You were right!" But it doesn't. At least not for me. I have experienced some things that would seriously make a killer memoir, and I've survived each of those experiences.

The important thing is, you figure it out.

All of this to say, I have not had a place to call my own since January. I have been floating through time and space the past 11 months, lucky to have the support network to allow me to do so until I figured out what was next. (Even my place in Berlin wasn't "mine" - it was a short term furnished apartment.)

This weekend I will get to decorate for Christmas with my husband. We get to start working on remodeling. And I get to collapse in a cozy heap of blankets with a kebab at home and rest. This sprint is done.

There's more to come, but for the first time in 11 months, I will be home without a time limit hanging over my head.

England is now officially home.